Where Do You Loiter?

 

“I have seen among the simple,
I have perceived among the youths,
a young man lacking sense,
passing along the street near her corner,
taking the road to her house,
in the twilight, in the evening,
at the time of night and darkness.”
(Proverbs 7:7–9)

Wisdom and folly are found in very different places. Wisdom stands on the street corners and lifts her voice to all who will hear: “How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple?” Her invitation to the fool is a call to change direction: “If you turn at my reproof, behold, I will pour out my spirit to you; I will make my words known to you” (Proverbs 1:22–23).

Wisdom is portrayed as easy to find, and her message is clear. Why, then, aren’t the simple flocking to her invitation from every corner of the city square?

The simple are loitering somewhere else.

They wait at the gate of folly. Night is falling. The businesses of the city are closing their shutters, and the folly of the night has begun. The fool knows the danger he is in, but he wonders how close he can come without getting burned. His loitering is rewarded by the arrival of temptation—her words, her dress, her perfume. All at once, he follows her. The trap is sprung, and his life is changed forever.

Why does he loiter?

The work of the day is finished, and as soon as his time is his own, he goes to wait by her door. His free time—his leisure—is spent awkwardly standing or pacing, watching at her house. How foolish is his heart, how oblivious to the danger! His heart longs for the temptation, the excitement, the enticement. He does not mean to go all the way—just a little further. Yet he sets himself on a trajectory that will bring his ruin.

So ask yourself plainly: Where do you loiter?
Not where you fall, but where you linger. Not the sin you commit, but the door you stand near. Wisdom calls in the daylight, but folly waits patiently for the evening. The heart is shaped long before the act.

Do not be deceived—no one stumbles suddenly. We drift by standing still. If you would walk in wisdom, then do not loiter at the threshold of sin. Turn your feet while it is still day, and order your time, your thoughts, and your desires toward the voice that gives life.

Glory and Influence

 King Lemuel’s mother was a wise instructor (Proverbs 31:1–9). She warned her son not to spend his strength—his time, money, spiritual capital, and moral authority—on self-indulgence. Instead, she called him to use his position as king to influence the plight of those who could not speak for themselves.

Kings possess glory (Hebrew: kābôd)—majesty and honor made visible. People are drawn to a king’s power, wisdom, and judgment. A good king therefore stewards not only his strength, but also his glory and, by extension, his influence. Lemuel’s mother exhorts him to “open his mouth”—to act publicly and justly on behalf of the poor and the needy.

Like strength, glory and influence must be stewarded. Any man must guard his character, both in public and in private, if he is to retain moral authority. Glory can be wasted—traded away for approval, comfort, or the avoidance of conflict. But a faithful king spends his influence differently. He aligns himself publicly with what is good, right, and true. He speaks with moral clarity. He expends his influence downward, on behalf of those who cannot repay him.

Spending glory and influence in this way may cost comfort, safety, relationships, and even reputation for a season. Yet men who desire to fulfill the dominion mandate and to steward their strength and influence wisely must listen to Lemuel’s mother. God gives strength and influence not merely to possess, but to deploy. They may be squandered, hoarded, or spent—but only when they are spent wisely are they used for the glory of God.

Making New Year's Resolutions

Two phrases stand out in the book of Haggai. The first calls the people of Israel to honest self-examination. The temple had remained unbuilt for sixteen years, and their familiar excuse—“The time has not yet come to rebuild the house of the Lord”—was wearing thin. “Consider your ways,” Haggai declares. The judgment of God surrounded them, if only they were willing to see it.

The second phrase—“Consider from this day onward”—invites them to move from examination, to repentance, to intentional change. Following this progression, Haggai offers enduring wisdom for the way we think about New Year’s resolutions.

1. Let Your Resolutions Be Biblically Informed

Make resolutions that move you toward greater obedience. God’s Word has a way of exposing the places where we fall short and clarifying the path forward. Listen carefully to what it says, even when it confronts you.

2. Make Repentance the First Step Toward New Obedience

Repentance allows the past to truly become the past. But repentance is not the final step. Do not waste time wallowing in remorse or shame. Turn instead in a new direction. Repentance clears the ground so that obedience can grow.

3. Anchor Your Resolutions in the Promises of God

What has God promised? Forgiveness. Peace. Security. Hope. In the New Testament, we are also given the promise of the Holy Spirit—His active presence and power enabling new direction, new strength, and lasting change. “Consider from this day onward.”

After the preaching of Haggai, the temple was rebuilt in five years. God’s Word, received with repentance and obedience, brought renewal where there had been long delay.

So consider your ways. And then, consider from this day onward.

 

The Intervention of the Word of God

 

The word of Haggai stands at the center of the story of the second temple. The entrance of the prophetic word is the pivot point of the narrative. Everything changes at that moment. The people respond in obedience and resume the work of rebuilding. God’s message, delivered through His prophet, becomes both correction and encouragement, moving the hearts of the people from repentance to obedience and from discouragement to renewed vision.

Haggai’s message unfolds in two distinct phases. First comes the command: “Consider your ways.” It is an invitation to moral reflection—to examine their circumstances and honestly reckon with the consequences of their disobedience. Then comes a second pair of calls to consider: “Consider from this day onward.” What grace and mercy are contained in those words. The message moves from judgment to hope, from rebuke to promise.

God’s encouragement takes concrete form.

“Fear not.”
Fear had been the original distraction that brought the work on the temple to a halt. Now God redirects their focus. When He is restored to the center of their lives and worship, fear no longer governs their decisions.

“In this place I will give peace.”
The Jews had been threatened with conflict over the rebuilding of the temple by the people of the land. God responds not with escalation, but with assurance. He promises peace in the very place of tension. The sovereign care of God transforms their outlook.

“From this day onward I will bless you.”
No more wages disappearing like money in a bag with holes. No more clothing that fails to warm. Blessing replaces barrenness. Restored fellowship with God brings not only security and peace, but abundance. What they reap will now far exceed what they sow.

The Word of God—and our response to it—is always the turning point. Repentance is never the end; it is the beginning. It opens the way to renewed hope, renewed vision, and renewed promise.

“Consider from this day onward.”

Consider Your Ways

 

Twice the prophet Haggai tells the Jews to “consider your ways.” He calls them to look around, examine their circumstances, and honestly read the consequences that have flowed from their actions. Their situation was not mysterious. If they were willing to reflect, at least three realities would have been evident.

The Law of Diminishing Returns

Haggai points to several areas of life where the Jews were already experiencing God’s judgment. Because worship had not been restored to its central place in the community, loss had become a defining feature of their labor. They sowed much but reaped little. They ate and drank, but were never satisfied. Their clothing failed to keep them warm. They worked hard, yet their wages slipped through their fingers—like money placed in a bag with holes.

Haggai describes their experience as a drought. Everything dries up, and whatever remains is blown away. The judgment was not sudden, but it was unmistakable. Over time, the blessing of God had leaked away. This is the law of diminishing returns: much effort, little fruit.

The Law of Misplaced Priorities

The Jews had stopped building God’s temple because of opposition from the people of the land. In response, they turned their attention to tasks they could accomplish. They built their own homes, secured their financial well-being, and even constructed houses adorned with paneled walls. Gradually, they came to believe their own justification: “The time has not yet come to rebuild the house of the Lord.”

But opposition is not an excuse for disordered affections. Instead of pressing forward toward the primary goal, they devoted themselves to secondary concerns—wealth, leisure, relationships, and security. These are good gifts, but never when they displace worship. Good things, when elevated to ultimate things, become idols. Haggai calls them to reorder their loves and to give God once again His rightful place at the center.

The Law of Declining Expectations

When I place myself in the position of these Jews, I understand the temptation. If temple construction was impossible for the moment, it would seem reasonable to busy oneself with other responsibilities until circumstances changed. After all, they faced political, social, and physical opposition. Fear and discouragement were real.

The pain is understandable. But sixteen years is a long time.

Over time, discouragement lowered expectations. The dream faded. What once felt urgent became optional. Obedience was quietly postponed. And so God sent Haggai—not merely to comfort them, but to confront them.

Diminishing returns. Misplaced priorities. Declining expectations.

Can we see these same forces at work in our own spiritual lives? Haggai’s word to them is God’s word to us still:

“Consider your ways.”

Restoring the Centrality of Worship

 

Sixteen years were wasted.

The people had started well. They began rebuilding the temple, and the foundation was laid. But then the opposition came. The people of the land offered to help rebuild, and when they were rebuffed, they turned hostile. Fear followed. Discouragement set in. Threats were made.

The final blow came with a decree from Artaxerxes. After searching the records, it was determined that Jerusalem was a rebellious city, and the work was ordered to stop. The opposition came “with haste,” and “by force and power made them cease.”

That was sixteen years ago.

The temple project was never resumed. Opposition had led to distraction. The people told themselves the work would continue someday—but now was not the time. Other matters demanded attention: building their own homes, caring for their families, stabilizing their finances. And who could blame them? With pressure and resistance all around, shifting priorities felt reasonable.

It was at that moment that God sent a prophet.

Haggai confronted their misplaced priorities with piercing clarity. Twice he tells them to “consider your ways.” Why had they worked so hard and yet failed to prosper? Why did satisfaction elude them? The problem was not a lack of effort, but a lack of worship. God called them back to what had once been central—to the restoration of His house and the renewal of their first love.

The Word of God moved them to repentance.

Then Haggai calls them to “consider” two more times—but now with hope: “Consider from this day onward.” Repentance led to renewed obedience. The people began to build again. What sixteen years of delay could not accomplish, faithful obedience soon completed. Worship and sacrifice were restored in Israel.

The lesson is not hard to see.

It is easy for our priorities to shift. Distractions creep in, often under the guise of responsibility. Our affections become disordered. While our primary pleasure is meant to be found in God alone, secondary goods—work, money, family, comfort, even ministry—can quietly become idols.

And without noticing, time passes.

Do not let sixteen years slip by. Consider your ways. Restore the priority of worship. Place God again at the center, and let everything else find its proper place around Him.

Postmodernism and Biblical Interpretation

 

Culture seeps into every nook and cranny of our lives, shaping us in ways we often don’t notice. It even influences how we interpret Scripture. Postmodernism—with its pervasive skepticism and suspicion of truth-claims—produces some familiar postures in interpretation:

• “You only hold that view because you’re a Baptist.”

• “You say that because you were born into a patriarchal culture.”

• “Paul only wrote that because he was a misogynist.”

• “You believe that because you’re a fundamentalist.”

C. S. Lewis famously called this mistake Bulverism—the habit of “situating” a view instead of answering it. Bulverism assumes someone is wrong and then tries to explain why they are wrong, rather than demonstrating that they are wrong. It replaces argument with suspicion, psychology, and motive-assigning.

Here’s how Bulverism distorts biblical interpretation:

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1. It replaces exegesis with motive-judging.

Instead of engaging the actual text, Bulverism says, “You only interpret the passage that way because you’re liberal,” or “because you’re conservative.” This conveniently avoids the hard work of genre, grammar, and context.
Our goal must be the author’s intent, not the interpreter’s psychology.

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2. It undermines the authority of Scripture.

Bulverism assumes the biblical authors held wrong motives or cultural biases, then dismisses their arguments on that basis alone.
But biblical authority rests in the text, not in speculative reconstructions of the authors’ subconscious motives.
The question is always: Does the argument hold, and is it consistent with the rest of Scripture?

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3. It poisons the well between Christians.

Labeling someone’s interpretation as “Calvinist,” “Baptist,” or “fundamentalist” as a way of dismissing it frames disagreement as a moral or psychological defect. This blocks the humility and charity essential for good interpretation.

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4. It avoids the hard work of exegesis.

Interpreting Scripture can be difficult. Bulverism removes the need to defend your reading with textual evidence. Why wrestle with counterarguments when you can simply dismiss the critic?

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5. It fosters confirmation bias.

Bulverism encourages us to find what we want to find. When motive-assigning replaces argument, interpretations are never tested—against the text, against opposing readings, or against our own potential misreading.

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6. It violates biblical justice.

Bulverism is, at its heart, judging without evidence. Scripture warns us against:

• judging motives (1 Cor. 4:5),

• bearing false witness (Ex. 20:16),

• showing partiality (Deut. 1:17), and

• engaging in foolish, unprofitable disputes (2 Tim. 2:23).

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In a postmodern world saturated with suspicion, Christians must resist Bulverism and return to the patient, humble work of exegesis. God’s Word deserves nothing less. If we seek the author’s intent with integrity, we will not only interpret Scripture more faithfully—we will treat one another more justly.